


William

by wheresmywatson



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Fluff, M/M, Soulmate AU, Soulmates AU, not compliant with series 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-20
Updated: 2014-03-20
Packaged: 2018-01-14 10:11:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1262413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheresmywatson/pseuds/wheresmywatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an alternate universe where people are born with the name of their soulmate/s on their left wrist, John was gifted with two. But with Mary dead and William still nowhere to be found, John finds himself losing hope that he will ever get his happily ever after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> THIS FIC WOULD NOT EXIST WITHOUT SLENDERLOCK ON TUMBLR. I was inspired by [this post.](http://slenderlock.tumblr.com/post/78147512031/soulmate-au-where-everyone-has-their-soulmates)
> 
> This fic is not compliant with Sherlock s3. Sorry about that.
> 
> Also, Mary is the Mary from the books. Innocent, loving Mary with no assassin past or anything else like that. Wonderful Mary, perfect other half to John. ~~Oh and she's dead.~~
> 
> Sorry again.
> 
> On an unrelated note, if you're a reader of mine who's waiting on updates for my other stories: they are coming please don't lose hope. I just get inspired for different things a lot lately.

It was raining lightly when John went to visit Mary's grave. It had been a year now since her death, and John still felt the ache of her absence deep within himself.

"I thought you'd be with me forever," he admitted softly, eyes fixed sadly on where her name had been engraved. "Just you and me... Especially since the first one never showed."

John was one of the rare people to be born with two soulmates, but despite the name William being first on his wrist, he hadn't met the man yet. He had found Mary and married her, but only after having to watch his best friend die first. He often thought that if he'd been given the chance, he would have happily settled down with Sherlock for the rest of his life.

After a moment, he lifted his left arm and pushed up his sleeve to expose his wrist. Still clear as day, the name 'William' stared back at him from just beneath the palm of his hand. Underneath that, the name Mary could barely be read. It had faded the day Mary passed and remained that way ever since.

But the name William was still there, taunting him every time he looked down at his arm. Where was this man? Why hadn't John met him yet?

"Fuck him," John whispered into the dreary air, pushing his sleeve back down as he turned away from his wife's grave and began trudging back to the cab he had asked to wait for him.

He was tired of waiting for this mysterious soulmate of his to turn up. It was time to forget it, maybe get another tattoo over the name so he could stop thinking about it and find someone else to pass the rest of his life with. Someone who had been born without a name on their wrist so he wouldn't have to compete or be thrown away as soon as they found their other half.

Reaching the cab, John opened the door and slid into the back seat, shutting the door again before realising there was someone beside him.

"Sorry, what-?"

His words died on his tongue, his whole body freezing and his head feeling light as he stared in disbelief at the man he had believed to be dead for so many years.

"John," Sherlock said softly, an apology in his eyes.

Before Sherlock could say anything else, John had bolted from the car and was walking through the rain again, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself down and make sense of what was happening.

Sherlock. In the cab. Sherlock was alive.

"John, wait!"

John turned around at Sherlock's voice, staring at the figure who was walking after him quickly.

"You died," John snapped as the man drew closer.

"I did it to protect you," Sherlock burst out, putting his hands on John's shoulders and staring at him through the rain. "Moriarty would have killed you if I didn't convince him I was playing his game. He wanted me to die, to ruin my reputation and make everyone believe I was a fraud."

"Why didn't you tell me?" John asked, finding his throat constricting with emotion.

"He had people watching you. But I've finally taken down the entire web so that you can be safe and I can come home." Sherlock's gaze softened and he smiled, pulling the shorter man closer to him and leaning down so that their faces were inches apart. "John, my dear John."

John reached up, his hands clinging to Sherlock's face as he pulled him the final distance and kissed his mouth desperately. He felt Sherlock's arms wrapping around him and his eyes burned with tears that would be indistinguishable in the rain.

All that talk about soulmates was rubbish. Sherlock, right here and now, was the one and only man John would ever love.

* * *

John wouldn't let Sherlock out of his sight when they went back to Baker Street. They lay awake in Sherlock's bed, limbs tangled carelessly and John's head resting on Sherlock's chest to listen to his heart beat and be reminded again and again that he really was alive.

"You're an idiot," John murmured for what must have been the fourth time. Sherlock had given up responding and simply smiled.

The silence that followed was comfortable and John found himself reflecting on how easily they had fallen together without having to say a word. He had grilled Sherlock about what happened, of course, and for the specific details of _why_ he had needed to fake his death, but the relationship which had blossomed between them had sprung from actions, not words.

One of Sherlock's hands was resting gently in John's hair, fingers massaging gently and helping John to be completely relaxed. He couldn't remember ever feeling so at peace since Mary's death.

A sudden spark of curiosity lit within him and he shifted, reaching up to Sherlock's hand to pull it down in front of his face. His fingers fiddled with the cuff of the taller man's shirt and he glanced up to meet Sherlock's gaze.

"May I?" he asked.

"Of course."

John had never seen Sherlock's naked wrist before, as it was always covered by a sleeve – or gloves when Sherlock was experimenting – and he now found himself overwhelmed with a desire to know what it said, if anything. If he was honest with himself, he expected to find a blank space of skin.

But when he unbuttoned Sherlock's cuff and rolled it up, his very own name stared back at him.

"It's me," he whispered in disbelief, tracing the letters of his name.

"Mm." Sherlock nodded his head with a smile.

John felt awed and terribly confused that he could be Sherlock's soulmate without Sherlock being his. Except that he knew Sherlock _was_ his soulmate, so there had to be a mistake somewhere. He exposed his own left wrist, something he also hadn't done very often around Sherlock in the past, and held their wrists together.

"Sherlock," John said softly, speaking the name that should have been written on him instead of William. "Do you think they ever get it wrong?"

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked patiently, twisting his hand to lace their fingers together.

"Do you think people ever get the wrong name?" John clarified.

Sherlock didn't reply right away.

"I think that people who are meant to be together are drawn to each other regardless of what's written on their arms."

The words comforted John and he relaxed again, a smile on his lips. It didn't matter that the name on his wrist was wrong, because the name on Sherlock's wrist was correct and they _had_ found each other anyway.

"I love you, Sherlock," John told him for the first time.


	2. Chapter 2

Weeks passed and Sherlock and John fell into their old routine, consisting of Sherlock working for the Yard on a part-time basis and John returning to work at the clinic on weekdays. Their relationship was strengthening, still in the new and exciting stages of finding out the more intimate details of each others lives.

One particular evening after solving yet another case, Sherlock had been dragged out to the pub with John and Greg so they could all spend some time together in celebration. Needless to say, Sherlock wasn't in the best of moods. According to him, his time was much better spent at home working on his experiments.

"I wish Mycroft could join us some time," Greg said with a sigh. Mycroft was his soulmate, but the man was always working late into the night and didn't have a lot of time to spend going out for a drink.

"Oh, yes," Sherlock said sarcastically. "That would be _most_ enjoyable. A night out with my dear friends and brother. What fun!" John was laughing too hard to answer, but did manage to shoot Greg a look of sympathy that Mycroft couldn't come. "Speaking of fun," Sherlock continued. "I'll be back in a minute."

The detective disappeared to the loos and Greg shook his head with a smile, not at all surprised that Sherlock would need some time to himself again. Socialising and acting polite seemed to take a lot of energy out of him.

"You get to spend some time with him though, don't you?" John asked about Mycroft after a moment, sipping his beer. "He can't work all the time."

"We have lunch together sometimes," Greg replied with a smile. "It works out well. He usually sends a car, which is surprisingly a turn-on."

"Oh, right!" John laughed.

"But you and Sherlock, then? He's back, and you... the two of you?" Greg asked hesitantly.

John smiled and nodded his head. "Yeah. I've never been happier, Greg, honestly. I mean, with Mary I was probably this happy as well, what with her being my other soulmate. But I'm so glad I have him back. It's perfect."

Greg was nodding along silently, eyes fixed slightly past John as he tried to decide whether or not to say what he was thinking. Finally, he focused on John again and leaned a bit closer, lowering his voice. "Have you ever thought about looking for William?"

John was caught off guard by the question and the smile slipped from his face. Clearing his throat, he looked down at his beer. "There's no real point to it. I was meant to have met him before Mary, but now she's gone and he's still a no show. It's fine. Sherlock is my soulmate, regardless of what's on my wrist."

Greg didn't look convinced, so John continued to avoid looking at him.

"What if it could be better than what you have with Sherlock?" Greg asked softly. "You could be happier, John."

Scoffing and raising his eyebrows, John finished off his beer before shaking his head and lifting his eyes to meet his friend's gaze. "I love Sherlock. I don't care if William really is out there somewhere, because I'm happy with what I've got. I don't _want_ anyone else."

"I'm sorry," Greg said with a sigh, leaning back. "I'm just trying to look out for you."

"I know, and thank you, but what Sherlock and I have _feels_ like soulmates. I'm perfectly happy with him." Giving Greg a reassuring smile, John then stood up. "I'm just gonna get some fresh air. Tell Sherlock where I am when he gets back."

After Greg nodded to say he would, John turned and left the pub. Stepping outside into the cool air made him fold his arms as he leant against the building, his mind swirling with the conversation he had just had.

He was truly happy with Sherlock. When he tried to compare it, he had to say that being with Sherlock had the same euphoria that he'd felt when being with Mary. It was that which made him believe the name on his wrist had to be wrong, and Sherlock _was_ meant to be his soulmate, yet...

If William was out there, maybe he was even more perfect like Greg suggested. Maybe William's name was at the top of John's wrist not because he would be met first, but because he was a _better_ soulmate than Mary. And if anyone could be better for him than Mary or Sherlock, shouldn't he try to find them?

The thought made John feel sick. There was simply no way he could leave Sherlock. No matter how much better it _could_ be, he would never leave his best friend. Sherlock's wrist said John, so John had to stay with him. It wasn't as if that would be a chore – it was, in fact, the thought of having to leave Sherlock which was terrifying. John couldn't even imagine how anyone could be better for him than Sherlock, but maybe William would show up as a sex-god with a real halo and glowing eyes.

Convinced he was going mad, John shut his eyes to try and clear his mind. He had only been like that for two minutes when he heard footsteps approaching and looked up to see Sherlock.

"I'm heading home," Sherlock told him bluntly. "I can't stand being here any longer. Are you alright?"

John pushed off the wall, straightening and nodding his head. "I'm fine. Do you want me to come with you?"

"No need," Sherlock said, putting his hands in his coat pockets. "I have a few experiments I'd like to attend to. Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine, honestly."

"Was it Graham? Did he say something?"

Ignoring Sherlock's inability to use Greg's real name, John sighed and replied, "I suppose he mentioned it to you as well, did he? Forget it. I told him he was being ridiculous."

Sherlock stared at him for a moment longer before nodding, satisfied. "Good. I'll see you at home in a bit, then."

Before Sherlock could dart off to get a cab, John pulled him down into a kiss. Then, with a grin, he gave the man a gentle shove towards the curb. Sherlock was trying to hide a smile as he bundled himself into a cab and disappeared.

"John?"

"Hey Greg," John said after turning around. "I was just coming back inside."

"No, listen," Greg said, shaking his head quickly. "I spoke to Sherlock. Has he ever told you his real name?"

"What?" John asked with a frown, tilting his head as he tried to catch up to what his friend was talking about. "Sherlock _is_ his real name. Sherlock Holmes."

"It's not," Greg replied, a smile beginning to burst through. "It's William."

The mere idea of Sherlock's name being the name on his wrist made John's brain stop functioning for a moment. "What?" he repeated.

"I'm pretty sure he thinks you know. I spoke to him just before, asking if he'd think about letting you find William – sorry, by the way – but then he said _he_ was William. He looked at me like I'd gone mad."

"Sherlock is William?" John asked slowly, blinking as he tried to process the new information.

"Yes."

Without another word, John quickly turned to the road to hail himself a cab. He needed to speak to Sherlock right away and find out if it was actually true. Surely Sherlock wouldn't lie, though, just for the sake of pretending they were proper soulmates?

Managing to get a cab, John sat anxiously in the back seat as he looked out the window and waited for their flat to come into view. He tapped his fingers against his leg continuously.

Finally, _finally_ , the cab came to a stop and John paid the fare. He practically ran up the stairs to the living room, out of breath when he finally came to a stop in front of Sherlock – who had clearly only arrived a few moments ago himself and looked surprised to see John in such a state.

"What's wrong?" Sherlock asked.

"Your name," John gasped out. "Tell me your bloody name."

There was silence for a minute, save for John's laboured breathing, as Sherlock stared at him and slowly worked out what had happened. Clearing his throat, Sherlock answered, "William Sherlock Scott Holmes."

John was shaking his head.

"You're a bastard. You never mentioned, _ever_?"

"I thought you knew," Sherlock replied quickly. "Before I faked my death I used to leave my birth certificate on the table. Any other important documents containing my full name as well. And you... you warmed up to me. I thought you'd seen it and realised-"

"I never knew!" John interrupted, grinning despite trying to stay annoyed. "I knew you were special but I had no idea. And I'd never seen your wrist so I didn't even think that you might have any reason to be interested in me."

Stepping close to put his hands on John's shoulders, Sherlock murmured, "I'm sorry. If this has been upsetting you, I'm sorry. I never meant for any of it. I honestly thought that you knew my name is William. I do just have one question, though." He paused. "If you didn't know that my name is William, why did you stay with me?"

"Because I love you," John replied immediately. "I could feel it. Our bond, or whatever. I thought that the name on my wrist was wrong somehow, that it was meant to say Sherlock."

"You should have told me," Sherlock said.

"You should have told me your name."

Grinning, Sherlock kissed him. "I did, just not verbally."

Letting out a heavy sigh, John pulled Sherlock against him for a hug and closed his eyes. "It makes sense now, you know."

"Hm?"

"I never understood why the name William was above Mary's if I hadn't met him yet. But I did meet you before Mary, so it makes sense."

Sherlock's arms tightened around John. "Ever since I met you I hoped you would be my John." John looked up at him to smile, but Sherlock frowned. "You're crying."

"Am I?" John blinked quickly and then chuckled. "Sorry. I'm just... relieved. A part of me was always worried that someone would come along and take me away from you. Knowing now that you _are_ my soulmate, and there is _no one_ else out there for me, is unbelievably reassuring."

Gently, Sherlock lifted John's arm and rolled down his sleeve to expose his wrist, doing the same on his own arm so that both their names were visible.

"I am your William," he said firmly. "I will _always_ be your William."

"I know, I know that now."

"I love you, John," Sherlock told him for the first time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock doesn't use Greg's proper name because he likes to piss off Mycroft. "I thought your soulmate was Greg?" Insufferable prick.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also on tumblr: [wheremywatson](http://wheresmywatson.tumblr.com/)


End file.
